The first is a completely true story from just a few weeks ago, so the details are fresh in my mind. In my great humility, I have tried to downplay some of the more dramatic feats, but I thing you will get the general idea.

Story 1 Spider Attack!

Just a week or so we were in the Rio Grande Valley visiting my sister. She lives in one of those RV parks, where many winter Texans live when not back 'home' for the summer. Like most of the parks down there, they start with a RV, and after a few winters, they get tired of the drive back North, so replace the RV with a mobile home, then start improving the lot and mobile home with carports and attached porches and landscaping and other amenities until finally, the become permanent residents and just stop going back North. Anyway, that is what my sister and brother-in-law did and my sister still lives there in a very nice mobile home with all the trimmings including a large permanent screened in porch.

One night, I was going out to the porch to get a beer from the fridge out there. Right at the bottom of the steps, there is a LARGE HAIRY SPIDER. I tell my sister I need something large to get a very big spider. She comes to look, and the giant spider starts to move, which just makes it look BIGGER! She tells me it is a tarantula, which somehow does not make me feel better. The HUMONGOUS spider starts strolling over to the steps. I grab a broom to defend my self. As it nears the bottom of the steps, I lurch forward with my trusty broom weapon and stomp down on the TITANIC sized monster, but, alas, the dumb broom is a soft bristle model and all I manage is to scare him and make him run and hide under the steps! They don't make broom weapons like the used to.

Now, of course, I can't see the damn thing, which is worse than at least knowing where he is. My sister informs me that the local people have told her that tarantulas are harmless, and they are misunderstood more afraid of people than people are of them. I'm not really interested in the psycho-babble, I just want to kill the damn thing. But, it seems to be a draw for now because my surprise has failed and I have lost my desire for a beer anyway.

So, we come back into the mobile, I check to see that the sliding glass door is locked and sealed and I sleep with one eye on the door all night long. I get up around 5 the next morning, start the coffee and go to the door to get the morning paper. Right at the bottom of the steps, the DAMN THING is back and he looks mad! I think he is trying to stare me down, but you can't tell the back from the front from the sides with those DAMN THINGS, so I'm not sure. I go to find a more sturdy weapon this time and my sister gives me the same old broom, which should have a label that says 'Not good for killing Mountain-size spiders and other DAMN THINGS.' She also finds a can of ant and roach bug spray. The damn thing sure ain't either of those, but she doesn't seem to keep a supply of Tarantula Spray handy, so that will have to do.

I go back to the door and the DAMN THING is still sitting there guarding the door, but my wife, Helen, is outside having her morning coffee. OK, if she managed to get around it, now my manhood is on the line and I have to do battle with the DAMN THING or I'll never be able to live with myself. So, I go down the steps, with can spraying. Damn, I forget to turn the little nozzle thing in the right direction, so it is back up the stairs to recoup and re plan my strategy. I get the little arrow lined up with the mark on the can and double check that is is point AWAY from me this time. I charge again, this time with the spray actually coming out and going in all direction, but I finally master the nozzle and get a steady stream which actually hits the spider every once in a while. The good news is that tarantulas definitely do not like ant and roach spray. The bad news is that it doesn't seem to have much effect on their life or health and actually seems to help their agility and speed. After zigging and zagging, the tarantula turns and is mounting his counter attack and is really mad. His hair is standing up, he stretches his 47 legs in every direction and starts right for me! The ant and roach spray is no longer streaming, the mist is starting to settle, but the fumes are overwhelming. It's going to be hand to hand combat!

I remember from our last battle, that the up-and-down stomp didn't work very well, so I decide to employ the over-hand straight down-swing directing the sturdy plastic bristle frame for the center of the DAMN THING. With unerring accuracy and lightening quick reflexes, I actually hit the elusive DAMN THING about three or four times out of a hundred or so whacks. The knight in shining armor (or in this case, shorts he slept in) was won. The DAMN THING is writhing in pain and twitching in his death throes. Either that, or the fumes from that ant and roach spray have overcome him, because I feel a little nauseous myself. Regardless, I stride confidently to where the DAMN THING is, open the porch door and sweep him to the middle of the street. Valor has won again and my wife runs to me and gives me a big hug ... as soon as she stopped laughing anyway!

I go back inside to have my coffee and my sister informs me that there were two of them in the shed. It's going to be a bad day after all, and people have the nerve to ask me why I'm a pessimist!

Bob Hutsler

To add you congratualtions, simply send me a note by clicking on this text. Due to expected heavy volumes, your personal reply may be delayed.